Showing Up

If you're trying to scare a president by throwing a book at him, you're one president too late.

Isn't this great? It's from my old friend, Maureen, who hates to be an "old" friend, as if that describes her age and not the age of our friendship. I can write all about her because she adamantly refuses to read blogs. Any blog, not just my blog. She don't say why.

Somehow this reminds me of the time last June when my grandson, visiting from the east coast, came in for supper. it's lovely to have a grandling in the house.

"Chicken and rice for dinner," I announced happily.

"I don't eat rice," he said in a sullen, twelve-year old tone.

"Then you won't get anything to eat," I snapped in a crabby sixty-nine year old tone.

He's not so picky these days.

Sigh. That was months ago and now I'd gladly take a little remorse on my rice. Gimme another chance. Maybe spaghetti?

I'd sure love Maureen to read this before I get too old to show up here.